


and a compass wouldn't help at all

by Red



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Bulges and Nooks, Come Inflation, Community: homesmut, Crossdressing Aliens, F/M, Fake Kismesisitude, Giant Human Bulges, Humans In Troll Romances, Multi, Quadrant Confusion, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strap-Ons, Trolls in Human Romances, Understanding Matesprits, Verbal Humiliation, Xeno, uncomfortable sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red/pseuds/Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a perfect glubbin catch and you always knew you were gonna eventually have success in this sweeps-long hunt for a little alien-style sex. </p>
<p>But it ain't like you were out to win the Xenokink Lottery, you didn't expect netting one nearly twice your size with the bulge to match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a [homesmut prompt](http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/39135.html?thread=43388383#cmt43388383) requesting size-difference xenokink. As always, big thanks to [metronariston](http://deepbluemorocco.tumblr.com/) and [youdidnotseeme](http://youdidnotseeme.tumblr.com/) for editing!

Nice part of flirting with humans is, it's an easy low-stakes game. Sure, it's a bit of work learning how to fuckin talk to them, and maybe they're a bit clueless on what a rightful amazing catch you happen to be, since they're ignorant of the nuances of troll royalty. But at least you don't gotta worry about quadrants. At least your failures are a little less than straight-up humiliating. 

Still. It takes more sweeps than you'd be strictly comfortable divulging to get one of em to pay you any sort of mind, and in that time you manage to fill a pail with proper trolls. But at some point the human thing becomes a bit of a fascination. It's nothing undignified--you aren't so pan-damaged that you’d want to _be_ one or anything--but the thought of seeing some alien bulge would make any troll curious. There's a reason interspecies bars are so popular out on the border stations, you think. 

Little too popular, in your opinion. It's a bigger barrel of fish with less competition, going right for the human soporific dispensaries. 

"I can't fucking believe I left the hive for this _again_ ," Kar's saying, for what you estimate is the fifteenth time tonight. Much as you appreciate Kar's unwavering support in this mission, you do sort of regret bringing him along. Not that you'd ever say anything of the kind to him, but it's kinda a drag. He's just staring at his human soporific beverage, which means you're being ignored along with all the reasonably intriguing specimens of human on display. "Or that I let you step into what passes for polite society on this hulking derelict with only plaid ribbon protecting the human fucking species from your globes."

You keep fixing up your lipstick and ignore him right back. Kar's got atrocious fucking taste if he thinks you don't look downright pumpbiscuit-stopping, and that you ain't shy to tell him. You blew good boondollars on these boots, and they make your globes a fuckin work of art. 

"Seriously, asshole, this place is a dive," he says. You try and ignore him, but now he's worked up and you're the sole target of his ire. "I know we're well into season four of Xenokink Survivor, but all you're going to catch here is a case of nookfreeze." 

"That ain't a proper medical diagnosis," you snap. 

You try not to let Kar's basic uncivil nature ruin a perfectly decent night, but sometimes that’s easier glubbed than done. Yeah, so you've dragged Kar out here before. And so maybe you haven't yet snared a human at this place, despite being such a stunning model of troll beauty. And sure, Kar’s right, it’s kinda drafty at this booth. 

Still, you aren’t keen on admitting defeat so early in the evening. You scan the room again. 

Lucky for you, there's a human at the end of the bar, maybe a little taller than you and Kar, with a definitely workable degree of attractiveness. "How bout him, yeah?" you ask, and Kar immediately angles his head to look, forcing you to kick him in the shin. 

"Ow! What the hell, fuckass?"

"He'll glubbin _notice_ ," you hiss, smoothing out your blouse. 

"Oh, sorry," Kar says, clearly anything but, "I forgot. Two trolls in a human soporific dispensary, that’s completely fucking unobtrusive." 

It isn't true that you're the _only_ two trolls here, but Kar does have a point: certainly, one of you is the most good-looking troll to ever grace a human soporific dispensary. 

"It's called a bar," you remind him. He rolls his eyes, and again you gotta ignore Kar’s discouraging manner. "Anyway, what do you think?" 

The human appears to be drinking all alone. Easy catch. 

You check your makeup again with the camera on Kar's palmhusk. 

"Well, for one, _quit obsessing_. Your face is fine," Kar says. Your fins perk right up; it's very nice of him. "And for two, that stellar pinnacle of alienkind has been rotting in place for at least three hours, and he's had three times as many soporifics." 

"Waitin for a bit a company, maybe," you reason, but as ever you only get half up from the table before Kar has your arm in a stranglehold. 

"Sit back down, you disaster.” He yanks at you, and you’re sorely tempted to rest your fine ass on his lap just to get his bleatbeast. But you also don't want all these humans to think you ain't free for the taking, so you sullenly return to your side of the booth. Probably does just as little glubbin good for your single troll image, though, since Kar won’t let go of your wrist. 

"Fine, fine," you grumble. "Tell me what's wrong with _this_ one." 

It became obvious sweeps ago that you'd have a lot more luck with the other species if you weren't always dragging Kar along. He's the indisputable expert on all manner of romance and that includes his shitty interspecies erotica novels, but every time you find a mark he's got something to say. 

"Are you out of your pan? He's human wasted." 

"And?" 

Kar looks like he's gonna fillet you in as unpleasant manner as he can manage. You sigh, bracing yourself. 

"And _the same thing I tell you every fucking time_ , nookwhiff. His rank human bulge won't be operational, even if he could walk to the fucking door."

"Can't blame a guy for forgettin somethin so glubbin beyond logic," you mutter. 

Humans are a fucking weird species. What would happen if the drones came after they'd been drinking soporifics? You've seen enough footage by this point to know that their genetic material seems to come out of their bulge, at least for some of them, and far as you know it ain't even like they can reproduce without any bulges like trolls can. 

You take a last desperate look around the room, hoping to spot someone who doesn’t look human wasted--or at least someone who wouldn’t look human wasted to a picky fuck like Kar. Naturally, everyone who isn’t seems to be all clammed up in couples or groups, leaving you with a woeful lack of affection. 

Another night of failure. Kar's right, you shouldn't have even left your hive. 

You cross your arms and rest your head on them, heedless of what it'll do to your makeup. What's it even matter? A guy like you clearly isn't ever gonna have any luck.

"Kar," you ask, "What's wrong with--"

"Not listening to this hoofbeastshit again,” he interrupts. Whenever Kar paps you, it's hard enough to make you flinch, and now isn’t any exception to the rule. "If I have to hear another spongeclot-goring 'woe is Eridan' tale I'm going to glue your fucking flaps shut." 

"I was gonna say--" 

"Glue's not enough of a fucking threat? I’ll learn how to fucking sew if it shuts you up," he says. "'Look at me, I'm Eridan. I'm completely unable to get my nook on any disgusting human bulgesticks, bluh bluh--.'" 

You burrow your head a little deeper into your arms. "Okay yeah maybe I’ve glubbed that a few times but really Kar what's wrong with me," you blurt out, dejected as you can possibly make yourself.

He sighs, and you feel him clench at your hair. Ordinarily, you'd tell him off for ruining hours of hard work in front of your mirror. Right now, though, you're willing to welcome whatever sympathy you can get. 

"Kar," you repeat, drawing it out nice and long to emphasize the downright pitiful nature of your entire situation.

"Nooksucking fuck," Kar says. He sounds a touch irritable, but maybe those human soporifics have that sorta effect on a troll. "I don't know why I'm wasting time and oxygen to say a single fucking thing, since you're obviously too busy fondling your own seedflap to hear me--" 

"Half the fuckin station can hear you fine." 

"Good, maybe someone else can help me drill some basic fucking sense into that hideously thick thinkpan of yours," he growls. "Look, you waste. Picking up some anonymous disease-scabbed sack of alien genitals in a _bar_ is stupid. How many times do I have to fucking say this? Just--open a fake email account, take a photo in whatever scrap of reject fabric you're pretending is an actual fucking garment, put an ad on human-Craigslist, and you'll rake in the mammalian spoils." 

You tilt your head to frown up at him. Kar's staring at you with that blend of exasperation and concern that he's practically got patented by now, and he's scratching you behind one horn real sweet. You soak it up for a minute before straightening again. 

Grabbing his hands in your own, you lean over the table to look deep in his eyes. 

"Kar," you start.

"Um. Yeah, what?"

He's gone a little pink, but he's not trying to pull away. You angle a little closer. 

"You really think my thinkpan's hideous?"

For a moment Kar's just staring at you. 

Then he yanks his arms back. " _Augh_ , you fucking sack of--" 

"Excuse me,” someone interrupts.

Both you and Kar turn at once. 

There's a human standing there, balancing a delicate-looking glass on a tray. You're shocked he isn't just incinerating what with the way Kar's glaring him down, but you're right thankful for the interruption. 

"This is for," the waiter pauses, glancing between you and Kar before the drink winds up deposited with an unfortunate lack of grace in front of… you? "'The troll in the fetching skirt,'" the waiter finishes. 

The way he says it, the words have the air of something scripted and forced, like he's quoting someone else and he doesn't much like it. He absconds the minute he's rid of the drink, and he's long gone by the time you get your thinkpan together to say thanks. 

But you say it anyway, just to yourself, as you stare in frank awe at the glass. 

"What the fuck," Kar's already going on, "Fucking goddamn human idiocy--" 

"Kar, it's fine," you say. You sniff at the drink. It's a pale, soft purple; nearly violet. You are maybe blushing. "This is a human matin ritual and if you read anythin regardin human romance you'd know already."

"Nookwhiff, I'm talking about that exemplary showcase of typical human stupidity. It's like he's never seen a fucking troll in a goddamn blouse, what the fuck."

"So they're weird about skirts an stuff, whatever.” You ain’t really paying attention to Kar, you’re busy rotating the fragile glass stem of the drink to admire the glint of light over salt and ice and what are maybe--small bits of plant? It's an odd drink. "Who even cares. Kar, look, someone ordered me a drink. And sent it over here. To me."

"Yeah, I noticed."

" _Me_ ," you emphasize again. It's pretty clear Kar doesn't yet appreciate how wondrous and beautiful this whole evening has just become. "I knew this was a fuckin brilliant idea an I won't ever hear otherwise. Look at it." 

"It looks like you and a few human-wasted botanists unloaded a p--fuck! _Don't just drink it_!" 

Before you can react, he's yanked the glass out of your claws and he's glaring and sniffing at it as if it were a particularly offensive corpse. 

"Come on Kar, you know that's mine an you got your own human soporific besides," you say, reaching to steal it back. 

"Lay off," he hisses as you grab at it, "oh my fucking god just relax, asshole." 

"I'll relax when I get my due rewards back an not a moment before," you tell him, and you've almost got the drink when Kar has the globes to haul off and swipe his tongue in _your_ drink. 

"What the glub--" you growl at him, but he just licks at his fangs all thoughtful, ignoring you entirely.

After a moment, he shoves the drink back your way. "Tastes like fucking ass," is all he says. 

Pulling the glass close, you hunch around it to protect from any further attack. You lap at the salted rim cautiously, glaring at Kar as you do. 

One of the strange bits of plant gets caught on your tongue. It tastes odd--herbal, maybe kind of floral--but not horrid. 

Living in a shitheap spaceport like you do with Kar, you're forever missing the ocean like some sawed-off part of you. You're always hungry for salt, and that craving far overpowers the bitter taste of human booze. Even the strange plant bits all smeared over the rim… Mixed with the salt, the flavor ain't unlike seaweed. Your voicebox lets out a churr of contentment, nearly against your will. Kar says something unkind, but you've got a fix of salt and now you can't be bothered by anything. 

After a moment, you take an experimental sip of the drink itself. It’s a cool slush, tasting of sugar and Earth citrus with the bitter kick of alien soporific, and ain't half bad. You don't know what Kar's on about. It's just a drink. You gulp it back. 

"What," you ask, when Kar keeps studying you. It's like he expects you to keel over or something. "It ain't poisoned, if that's what you're hopin." 

Under his breath, Kar grumbles quiet enough you don't quite catch it--some nonsense about how you've got your head so far up your nook you’d be dead before you noticed, blah blah blah--and it's lucky for you that he’s interrupted before he can get all worked up. 

Preoccupied with the novelty of actually having someone fuckin notice you enough to send a drink your way, it takes you a second to notice Kar go quiet and his glare divert from you to just over your shoulder. Whoever's approaching, they've got a soft enough step you can't hear a glubbin thing, but the back of your neck prickles with an animal awareness of being watched. 

Play it cool, you think. You're a suave and charming and perfect specimen of gorgeous seadwelling perfection and you are not desperate in the slightest. You take another sip of your drink, casual as you can, acting like the kind of troll what get drinks from strange humans on a nightly sort of basis. 

Oh god, you think. What does a troll like that even fuckin look like? Because clearly up till now you've had shit luck on the human front, and you can just tell from the look Kar's shooting at you that you are on the verge of a complete fuckin shipwreck of failure. In your peripheral vision, there's a tall fuzzy blob of black and lavender. You should have worn contacts. Why did you never get yourself some fucking contacts, you probably look like a huge fuckin nerd. Oh god. 

"Gentlemen," the human says, and you so don't panic. 

Setting the glass down with only a bit of clatter, you glance up and get ready to deliver a truly killer one-liner. 

"Uh, hey," is all that comes out of your traitorous windchute. Kar's got an expression like he's trying his level best not to cause you bodily harm, and you kinda get where he's coming from. You scramble for the words to try getting this whole introduction thing more in your favor. 

At least the human's smiling. And really, that's the first thing you notice about the human: this slight but unmalicious grin, like there's a joke you've not been let in on yet but that you're gonna hear about by the time the night's through. 

"Thanks for the drink," you say. "I mean, assumin it was from you, that is, an if not that's all right, it's still a pleasure meetin--" 

Kar kicks you under the table, cutting you off. You are ridiculously thankful for dragging him along. 

"Naturally," she--the human--says. Unlike tetchy fuckin waiters you got some sense of the general operation of gender in other species and you're like ninety percent sure this counts as a lady. She glances down at the glass, then back to your face. Her eyes are very light, and not just the eerie human-white sclera. The irises are this royal kind of lavender, loads paler than yours. "You enjoyed it, I'm assuming?" 

You know humans don't go for any hemospectrum horseshit, really, you do. All the same, when it hits you that the drink matches _her_ , not _you_ , you flush like a kid in his first pile. 

"Yeah," you tell her. Taking a nervous glance down at it, you wonder if it's in bad taste, licking the salt off the rim like you did. Man, human quadrant flicks sure skimp on the essential fuckin basics of mammalian etiquette. "A course, it's fantastic." 

She does that weird secretive grin again. You are fairly sure you are entirely violet, and you keep looking dumbly up at her. 

Up, as it happens to be, is the operative word. You know with humans, it's usually the females what're smaller. Lots of trolls get mixed up on that when first coming in contact with the species, but you've been living in a mixed port more than long enough to know that this human is like, way on the crazy tall end of the spectrum. 

And as for you, well. 

Trolls in general--particularly when you're lumping in, like, the freakishly huge indigo part of the species--are bigger than humans. But for every eight-foot cobaltblood, you guess there has to be a more sensibly sized troll. Being a seadweller and male, you're just lucky you got horns enough to look taller than Kar.

"I'm glad," she says, after an awkwardly long stretch of time. 

Okay, what the hell comes next with human courtship?

"Yeah," you repeat, stupidly. 

"Ugh. Look, I'm sorry my friend is a panrotten nightmare and I don't even know why the fuck _I'm_ sitting with him, but in the absence of basic fucking interspecies diplomacy, may I offer you a--" 

"Kar geez I got it," you hiss at him in Alternian, but he looks at you like he's trying to laser the words _THE FUCK YOU DO_ on your forehead and carries on.

"--seat with myself and this enormous fu--"

" _Kar_ ," you interrupt again. The human decides to take mercy on you, thank gog, talking right over whatever flattering remark Kar was about to make. 

"It would be a pleasure," she says. The way she gets Kar to shove aside and takes the place he'd had facing you, she's near as graceful as a troll. 

You straighten up and smooth back your hair, casual as you can manage. 

"Naw the pleasure is entirely ours." At least human cinema taught you _that_ much human manners. Once she's sitting down, you feel a little more at ease. It means she's maybe not right on the verge of absconding, and you can finally turn on the Ampora charm. 

Also, it means now you're not straining your fuckin neck trying to look at her. Kar will probably implode, having to sit next to someone so much taller than him--in your less optimistic moments, you're sure he only puts up with you since you're the rare troll that's reasonably close to his size--and it feels like you're on fuckin tribunal, having them both face you like this. 

But this is about the closest you've gotten to a human, in any sort of vaguely non-platonic fashion. 

"Thanks again for the drink," you continue, "An bein as you're kind enough to join us--which is really great a you, honest--I guess introductions are in order? I'm Eridan, and the ornery number sittin next to you is Kar." 

" _Karkat_ ," Kar grumbles, quiet like he's resigned himself to being ignored. You'll make it up to him later, you think. 

The human smiles again and reaches out a hand, and--astonished--you reach out and shake it, because you're fairly sure that's the gesture. She doesn't laugh at you, though, so you must have got it right. Her skin is deep brown and shockingly warm, and her hand is just huge around yours. You feel her react for a second when you first touch her, almost a flinch. She covers it up well, but sometimes Kar makes these unflattering comparisons concerning coldbloods and last week's frozen eel offal, and fuck, what if she's--

"Rose," she says, breaking into your thoughts. "And forgive me. Seadwellers are rather uncommon, at least in this particular portion of interspecies society." She gives your hand a little squeeze before letting go. 

"Don't worry, whatever festering chute it was that ejected them from the furthest ring made sure to do so in small numbers." 

You don't even spare the time to glare at Kar. "Yeah, we're kinda rare in general." You decide not to play up the royalty card. It ain't even like it matters much these days, not even if you had thrown your lot in with the Imperial Fleet. Also, it never seems to work so well. "An most of us what get hatched don't move around so much, I guess." 

It's a half-truth, one she probably knows. Ain't like humans go totally without schoolfeeding, everyone knows trolls don't stay on Alternia after final molt. 

But most seadwellers at least got money and sense enough to shack up on a colony with a body of fuckin water. 

"So I see," is all she says, before tilting her head to regard the both of you in turn. Her hair is insanely pale, like almost white. You know human hair color varies widely, but you're fascinated to see it so close-up. Everything about her is so alien. 

"But I'm realizin I ain't showin you the full complement a seadweller manners here Rose," you say, flaring your gills just so, cause you can tell she's maybe half as curious about you as you are her. "Can I maybe get you a drink in return?"

"Oh, no, that's quite fine.” Strangely, it comes out sorta urgent. You figure you've broke some esoteric and particularly stupid human taboo, but Rose changes the subject before you can ask.

"But, given the relative paucity of your particular category of troll, I suppose you'd forgive my boldness if I confess to being rather--intrigued?" 

"Yeah," you find yourself repeating, "A course." 

Kar is eyeing you both like he's thinking the two of you left your sense on the ships you came in on. "Come off it. It's not fucking obvious that he's on a one-troll mission for human--" 

"Kar we are in polite company." 

Rose settles back in her seat, like she's just as content to watch. "There's no need to stop on my account."

"Can we stop on mine, then?" you ask, to no one in particular. Rose looks amused, and turns slightly to speak with the nookblocking ass she's sitting by. 

"But as a reply to your curtailed commentary, I can't say that this is the first I've noticed your--" she stops, looking thoughtfully at the both of you, "well, I suppose 'quadrantmate' will have to suffice." 

The way she says it, you get the impression that she could pronounce moirail or kismesis easy as any troll could. You try to ignore Kar's sputtering. 

"Yeah?" you say, "I hadn't noticed you, an that ain't to say you're not utterly remarkable an all." Though you're not really sure how she ranks in human standards, you're sure you would have taken note of someone as _objectively_ good-looking as this Rose human. 

She and Kar share this look. 

Kar doesn't even have to open his fuckin mouth to let you know what kind of bulgepanned idiot you are. 

Well, you think. Shit. 

"Eridan," he starts. It is his I-am-trying-very-hard-not-to-have-a-stroke voice, or maybe his if-you-say-anything-I-will-pull-you-apart-fin-by-fin voice; you've never been able to figure the difference. You keep your trap shut. "I know you're determined to only hit on Epsilon 17's Most Desperate and Wasted, but occasionally there are other people in this fucking dive, most of which have sense enough to also drag along their goddamn 'quadrantmates' to serve as voices of reason which go entirely fucking ignored. But," he says, turning his rage towards Rose, "There's no explanation for why _yours_ is sitting over there--" Kar points out a table where a female troll is sitting alone, watching you all with her arms crossed, "--and letting _you_ buy this fucknoodle a drink." 

Rose gives the troll a little wave. You shrink back in your seat, because yeah, her troll girlfriend is definitely staring you down, and also now that the probably-matesprit is pointed out you do recall the both of them from times you and Kar have been in here before. 

Previously, you'd kinda zoned them out, since--at least from afar--they looked a decent flushed match, like totally wrapped up in each other. But it'd be impossible _not_ to notice that troll. 

Seeing a seadweller is exotic in these parts, sure, but seeing a jadeblood anywhere outta a brooding cavern is downright shocking. You haven't personally seen once since you were in the caverns yourself, but from what you seen in feeds and the like, she fits the bill of tall-and-reasonably-deadly-looking. 

For the first time, you wonder if the rainbowdrinking myth is true. 

"Perhaps she's just willing to humor me in a little scientific curiosity," Rose tells Kar, "not unlike how you're humoring your partner." 

"Yeah, maybe. But you could have almost any troll in this spacemad waystation, and you're picking _him_." 

"Pay a guy a compliment," you mutter. Honestly, though, you can't deny being skeptical yourself. 

Why would someone already with a troll ever be interested? Humans ain't usually keen on troll-style romance, so you sure she's not angling for you in another zone. And if she's already got a troll, it shouldn’t be plain curiosity.

"Well," she says. "The allure of an aquatic creature in a miniskirt is perhaps too much for a simple human to resist." 

You preen. Of course, you think. What a sensible answer.

"Be fucking serious. He may be a coldblooded disaster with a disturbing obsession for checking mammalian bulge off his xenokink bucketlist, but…" Kar trails off, frowning at Rose. 

The look she gives him is mostly sympathetic, but you still get the feeling she's gonna have a good laugh about all this later on. 

"But he is your coldblooded disaster; I do understand. Perhaps I should have asked Kanaya to come over here with me, as she's often lead me to believe that perhaps 'snarky horseshit' does not translate well across interspecies borders. So, to place matters as bluntly as possible: Eridan, you're interested in casual relations with a human. Karkat, you are apparently willing to humor him in obtaining said relations. I am interested in a sexual encounter with a troll of Eridan's particular stature and type, as the details of seadweller anatomy seem most--intriguing--in your romantic literature." 

"Oh, it’s intriguing. Intriguing how much a genre that respectable is willing to exaggerate something like aquatic nook," Kar interrupts. 

"Be that as it may. I so rarely get to interact with other trolls, despite my interest. You'll understand that Kanaya doesn't maintain close company with many on the station."

"I can see that," you say. To be honest, it'd be kinda nice if you and Kar got on better with other trolls, but the matter ain't really your concern. You long ago gave up on filling your quadrants in any proper manner. Hell, why would you even _want_ to when there's humans this forthright and glubbin attractive just hanging around this station? 

Karkat's still frowning, though, tapping his claws against the table. 

"I do promise to return him in one piece," the Rose human says. Kar doesn't look much appeased. But, after a minute, he fixes his glare on you. 

"I guess it's up to him," he says. 

You reach over and pet at his cheek. He allows it for a second, his voicebox letting out a rumble that you're sure he didn't mean to give you in public. Your hand's slapped away pretty quick. 

"So," you say to Rose, because you seen enough movies to get this line down right, too. "Your hive or mine?" 

 

The walk to Rose and her matesprit's hiveblock is--somehow, despite what Kar might be hoping for--not a complete spectacle of horror and shame. They live a little closer to the more human-y part of the residential ring than do you and Kar, but it's still a decent walk from the human soporific joint. 

At least the night is temperate enough, being as there's no fuckin weather. 

Epsilon 17 was a commercial human station first, hence the shitty fuckin name that survived through the sweeps. But it was so close to this old Alternian smuggler's route that it got half-colonized by trolls real early on, and in the manner of most pirate-based settlements, it wound up loads more integrated than any Imperial colony. There's still a definite sector of town where the first trolls took up hives, though, and you guess Rose's matesprit has as much reason as you and Kar to stick away from the glubbin center of that. 

The lot of you probably look all ridiculous and mismatched, you and Rose walking side-by-side ahead of Kar and Kanaya. Kar's easily a head shorter than Rose's matesprit, and the way he dresses like a scowl and someone's ancestor's sweater were acceptable fashion is just extra laughable next to someone so well-dressed. Least you and Rose don't look quite as absurd in that regard. You're still wearing a hell of a lot less, though. 

And she's still a whole hell of a lot taller. Even with the not-inconsiderable size of your horns, there's more of a difference between you and her than Kanaya and Kar. The tips of your horns maybe come up to her shoulder, and that's being real generous. 

Rose is snarky and way more handsy than you'd expected, too, and you keep glancing back hoping that her matesprit _really_ doesn't mind. And though you do get a few looks from Kanaya, it's nothing compared to the occasional glare Kar shoots at you whenever he realizes you're looking. Mostly, they just seem engaged in whatever conversation they're having. You're a little jealous that Rose's matesprit can already hold a conversation with Kar that ain’t entirely obscenity-based. 

"I can assure you, Kanaya is very much not human. And she’s even less interested," Rose eventually whispers at you, when you're turning back to check on Kar and Kanaya one more time. 

Guilty, you turn back and look up at her. 

"You don't gotta tell me," you say. 

You don't add that you're wondering if her jadeblood's really okay with this human-style casual pailing thing. It ain't like trolls don't sleep around, but unless there's some blackrom angle, you never see the quadrantmate hanging around just waiting for it to happen. Rose has had her hand on your ass for the last two blocks, and right then she gives you a sharp squeeze that isn’t entirely reassuring. Already, you’re sure Kanaya’s been staring the whole time, but you ain’t keen to turn around and find out. 

"Don't concern yourself over it," is all Rose says, and when Kar and Kanaya part ways with you at some shitty species-fusion diner--Kar pushing his palmhusk into your claws, because of course you're a tremendous moron who can't ever remember his own--you finally manage to take her advice.


	2. Chapter 2

Their hivestem unit is, you soon find out, big enough to encompass maybe two or three of what you and Kar share. You consider asking Rose what it is she and her matesprit do for a living, because obviously you’ve been busting your globes on the wrong line of business, but before you can say anything she's herding you into a respiteblock. 

The room is real nice, even if it is unusually bright. There’s more lights in one respiteblock than in the whole of your hive. You’d like to stop and just sort of take everything in, Rose in particular. 

A human, you keep thinking. Finally, a human, and a gorgeous and confident and really fucking big human at that. You’re stunned enough, though, that all you can do is sort of--go along with Rose’s lead. 

She guides you to sit back on the concupiscent couch--bed, whatever--and you decide, yeah. Even if she’s acting like she doesn’t want to hear a guy talk, even if she’s not giving you a moment to ask if she’s really intending to leave on _all_ those lamps... You're kinda okay with it.

Kar's phone gets tossed on this half-chair half-couch thing they got, along with your blouse and her dress. Things are going kinda fast, sure. But the two of you'd glubbed more than enough on the way here. You'd already spluttered out what you wanted (nothin quadranted and yeah Kar wasn't foolin about your interest in human bulge) and she'd already gone over her general proclivities, which sounded real nook-centric and therefore absurdly compatible with your own. Really, you’re on a human’s coupling platform and you’re half-naked and she’s pushing you around. You ain't about to take things slow.

Earlier, Rose had also confessed to having a "simple curiosity regarding your gills," and right about now she's getting her fill. Stripped down to her human undergarments, you can't exactly deny that you're getting some of your own curiosities indulged, too. 

The bra she's wearing is real lacy and almost the exact lavender of the drink she'd sent you, but her panties are these jade green striped practical things that make you nervous all over again. Either she wasn't planning on picking up another troll tonight, or she's even more calculating with this hookup than you thought. 

As she trails her fingers over the edge of one of your gills, she's smiling to herself. Biting your lip, you twist a little to let her check out the exposed flange of tissue. It’s a risky move, and you’re lucky she doesn't decide to just poke them directly. She leans in for a closer look instead, and the wet heat of her breath is enough to make you squirm. The way she gets herself angled, it makes her rumble spheres press up against you. Hesitantly, you put your hands on her shoulders, your thumbs rubbing curiously at the straps of the bra. 

"Hey, uh," you start. You know some human cultures are kinda private about their weird thoraxes, and maybe Rose is one of those humans. But you figure gills for mammalian rumble spheres has gotta be an even sort of interspecies trade. "Maybe we can get this off?" 

She laughs right against your gills--which feels plain weird--before she sits up again. "I suppose it would only be fair," she says. 

Fascinated, you watch as she unhooks something in the back of the garment, making it come loose. Human rumble sphere holsters seem loads more elaborate than anything you've seen on a troll, but you guess the biggest troll spheres of your intimate acquaintance happen to be Kar's, and he ain't real keen on holstering in general. Rose's are far larger--even proportionally speaking--than his. And when she gets the bra off, they hang way differently, too, and--shit okay that's right, she's a _mammal_. 

Her nipples are real dark, far bigger than what you've seen in human porn. Maybe, you think, you shoulda watched more human porn with rumble spheres. Why didn't you watch more porn with human rumble spheres?

Obviously you've made some stupid face because once you manage to tear your gazebulbs away, Rose is smirking at you. Again. You compose yourself, straightening up. 

"They, uh, sensitive or anythin?" you ask, because you got no clue. Maybe it's like gills, where almost nobody likes 'em fucked with, or maybe it's like horns where everyone's all different. Either way, you ain't about to get culled for groping any weird mammal bits without asking. 

"Not excessively so," she says. You startle when she grabs your hand and just kinda pulls you over. Her skin is so warm and so much softer than any troll, but when you drag your thumb over the uneven alien tissue, you feel her nipple becoming firm. "They are intended to suckle our young, after all."

"Eugh!" As enthralled as you were, you let go because wow, _no_. She chuckles. 

"Ah, yes. Kanaya has voiced the same opinion. My apologies." She sits back, and--reluctantly--you let her arrange you to straddle her, facing her spheres. "Please. I promise they are merely an erogenous area. Any unseemly mammalian functionality is purely hypothetical." 

You keep your arms crossed a second longer. "You swear it?" 

"It is not as if the anatomy of your species lacks in fluid production, Eridan," she says, and you gotta admit even if it ain't exactly an answer, she does have a point. Cautiously, you unfold your arms to cup her spheres in your hands. 

They're big enough--and your hands are small enough--that you can't get much of a grip, but you figure out pretty quick that what she likes is super different than what trolls do, anyway. She's got the experience to know to tell you off the minute you start trying to squeeze, and she guides you back to her nipples. "The innervation is far different," she lectures, and you follow her prompting to pinch softly. "Of course, there is variation, but most humans wouldn’t appreciate the techniques you're familiar with." 

You get the impression she's got personal experience with that, and you grin. It is, you quickly learn, way different than with trolls. Troll spheres are erogenous but usually just in a blackrom sorta way: you gotta clench or bite them pretty hard to feel much of anything. But this is nice, too. 

Her nipples are getting erect, almost like a bulge. Pressed up against her belly, your slit is getting wet. You can feel her breath going all quick under your hands and between your thighs. And while you're definitely gonna be pissed if you get any weird human mammary fluid on your person, she seems to like what you’re up to so much, eventually you figure it's worth the risk to try and get one of her nipples in your mouth like you would a bulge. Minding your fangs, you lean down and lick rough over one of them before getting your lips around it. 

Rose jumps, and you're real glad you got the rest of her sphere steadied with your hand because she just lectured you about biting. In the back of your throat, you make the usual instinctive "okay was that awful I'll stop no harm meant" clicking, before remembering she ain't a troll. 

"Oh, no, it's fine," she says. Her hand's on the back of your head before you can pull off to ask her proper. "Ah." Encouraged, you keep rasping your tongue over her, and she sighs again. 

"Your initiative is really--oh," she trails off as you skim your clawpoints over her other breast, "--Truly appreciated." You're kinda getting the picture that she doesn't ever stop talking, even during sex, but that's okay, you're kinda used to that, and you're really hoping she doesn't mind you grinding your nook against her stomach. 

She lets you switch off, leaving her nipple hard and shiny, to go down on the other side. Draping one of her arms over your neck, your face is shoved up against her spheres--and with her so much bigger than you, it’s overwhelming. Your bloodpusher’s already racing, you’re dizzy from the heat. Much as you like sucking her off, it's almost a relief when she urges you away, both from her chest and off her body entirely. 

"What--"

Her hand pets over your side, and you lay back again. The sheets are wonderfully cool against your back. "I could have you like that all day," she reassures before standing up. You let your fins go back, just flattered and pleased as hell. Maybe she’s already broken your thinkpan, but you think you'd like that, too.

"I just would prefer not to ruin these," she says, shucking her underwear. She's only still long enough for you to notice the hair she's got between her legs--dark as any troll's, and you aren't sure if that's weird for humans or not, that she ain't got much hair anywhere else on her body and that the hair on her head is almost white--before she's leaning over you. 

"And I suppose you'd prefer not to further damage your own. May I?" 

Nodding quickly, you lift your hips to make it easier for her as she reaches under your rucked-up skirt. You’re still lightheaded, and you gotta hold your breath as her fingers skim up your thighs. 

"We'll leave the skirt on, I think," she whispers right up against your fin, and oh fuckin god.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, anythin you want," you gasp, and to your embarrassment your bulge just unsheathes all in one go as she tugs off your panties. All you can do is fuckin hope that she'll think that's just a seadweller thing and not you being eager as an 8-sweep-old. 

Somehow, you'd never thought of pailing someone in your skirt and stockings, and now that it's happening you find that a pitiful fuckin oversight. Once she's tossed your panties aside, she's right back between your legs, urging your thighs apart. Flustered, you just concentrate on holding your up your skirt to keep your bulge from totally wrecking the fabric. 

For a moment she just looks at you. It takes all of your considerable will not to tug your skirt back down and run. Even if Rose ain't got a stitch on her, having to keep your skirt all hiked makes you feel so much more naked than if she'd really had you strip. 

And with all those fucking lamps she’s got blazing in here, you're exposed in a way different than any time you've been with a troll. 

Yeah, you're damn attractive. But you're not sure that a fuckin spotlight is gonna be flattering for the discolored skin of your inner thighs. 

You wonder what she thinks. 

From what you’ve heard, humans find seadwellers loads more alien than the rest of trollkind. You got fins and gills and you're basically hairless and your joints bend all different and generally you’re real fuckin proud of all that shit. But when she’s got some fancy glubbin bioluminescent jadeblood as a matesprit, well, you gotta bluster up some confidence. 

"Look, uh, I'm glubbin attractive an all I know but--oh geez, okay.”

Her skin is hot, yeah. You’re prepared for that, you've figured that much out by now, and anyway humans ain't so different from Kar in that regard. 

But what you ain’t prepared for how fuckin _huge_ her hand is, cupped over the whole of your bulge and nook. Somehow, you keep from thrusting yourself against her--your mind swims, thinking of how deep her fingers will be able to get, how she'll stretch you apart--but your bulge is thrashing eagerly against her palm. She rubs the heel of her hand back and forth, encouraging the last few centimeters to writhe out from your sheath. 

"Hmm. This really is very--different," she says to herself. 

You flush, still looking anywhere but at her. "Well, sure. 'Coldblooded disaster' an all, right?" 

“That, too. But your bulge is, ah…" she trails off, like she's just thought better of what she’s saying.

Okay. Shit. 

You didn't think you could have gone any more violet.

"Yeah well take it as a compliment already," you gripe. Ugh. Of course she's gonna notice, you moron, nobody would be dumb enough to think seadwellers are just glubbin around unsheathed all the fuckin time, least of all this broad. "That's just what fuckin happens when a troll's excited, an you shouldn't need me sayin so." 

"No, I didn't mean that. And I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, either.” 

Almost idly, she circles two fingers against the base of your bulge. Pushing down, she lets it squirm over her hand. She doesn't try and pull on it or anything, not at all like humans do each other in porn. It's good.

But it’s also kinda disorienting, just how normal this feels. You grip at her arm, minding your claws. 

“I--yeah, it’s fine, okay. But, well, what--" you start. 

As you’re watching her, you notice how she’ll glance down at your bulge when she presses--almost like she's expecting to see more unsheathe--then back up at your face. 

And real fuckin belatedly, your thinkpan stumbles over the answer. You've seen way more than enough human porn, it shoulda been obvious. 

"A course. Your matesprit's bigger, huh?" you ask. You’re so relieved it's just stupid alien misunderstanding, you could fuckin kiss her. "Look, that ain't like some huge glubbin deal with most a us." 

Maybe that ain’t one hundred percent true--there's loads of huge-bulge Alternian porn out there and you should know--but from what you gather, humans got cultural baggage with that sorta thing. The size of your bulge ain't got shit to do with how much you can spill into a pail, and the short length of yours is barely enough to fill her palm. She grins when you let it writhe slick in the loose tunnel of her hand. 

"I suppose one could consider that the sign of a superior culture," she tells you, pumping her hand around it once, human-style. She even seems relieved. "It is a lovely bulge, Eridan." 

"Hell yeah it is," you say. You don't much care how she interprets that comment--ever since you shacked up with Kar on this mixed-species station, you haven't been so convinced that the Empire's _naturally_ superior. But that doesn't necessarily mean you'd like to admit that to all of humankind. 

Laughing, she lets your bulge go. "But, if I remember your interests correctly…"

You watch as she pushes at your thighs, getting you to splay just completely fuckin wide-open. Her one palm smears violet over the mottled skin of your right thigh, and you're excited enough that you’re clenching around absolutely nothing, and fuck you need those fingers up your nook.

She trails her hand down, gentle as she spreads the folds of your nook. You can't help shivering. Your bulge is twisting around itself and you gotta reach down to cup it against your stomach, not wanting it in her way. 

"You like this best, correct?" 

One of her fingers slips in your exposed nook, easy as anything. You still jump. 

"Give a guy a warning," you hiss, and she doesn't seem particularly sorry, she just looks inquisitive as she goes on and presses another finger up alongside. 

That goes in real easy, too. It’s only a stretch when she’s got them both in up to the knuckles, once she’s pushed through the narrowest turn of your nook. Even the small discomfort, though--this is fuckin amazing. 

You're not really built for this sort of thing. 

Doing this shit to yourself, you always get sore. Your hands are loads smaller than hers, too. Fingers, human bulges, human-design autopailing devices--they're all that same sort of unyielding. They don't twist and don’t got any give. They ain’t at all like a bulge, which is all your nook’s evolved to take. You could get hurt, trying to stretch out over something as blunt and hard as alien bulge. 

The angle she's at, though, and the way she starts thrusting her hand to make this sloppy noise--you really don't fuckin care how much you'll be hurting later, and Rose doesn’t seem to mind too much either.

She's watching her hands with pretty clear hunger. "That wasn't answering the question," she says, curling her fingers back out. You thrust your hips back down, trying to get her hand up your nook.

It takes you a minute to remember what she’s glubbin on about. "Ain't it fuckin obvious? Course I glubbin ‘like this best,’ it'd be straight-up laughable to-- _agh_ \--" 

You wince as she shoves a third up in you. 

Okay, yeah, it's definitely a stretch now. The solid human-style vibrator you got at home is smaller than this. You’ve only had so much up your nook the few times you got a bulge in alongside that thing, and Rose has to hold real still once her fingers are up as far as she can get them. 

"Oh fuck," you whine, once you got the air to complain. 

"Too much?"

Shaking your head, you let go of your bulge to clamp your hand around her wrist. 

If she pulls out, you're gonna die, and you ain’t shy to tell her so. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," she says. She leaves her fingers up in your nook, and it takes a while but you relax by slow degrees around her. You know she can feel it. The minute you've eased up enough, she hooks her fingers once and then again real rough, and that firm pressure right up against your seedflap goes so intense you nearly spill then. She must have triggered a small burst of fluid anyway, though, because she moans against your side. 

Just as hard, she does it again. You sink your claws into her wrist and beg. 

"Don't. Fuckin, please--" 

For a second, she seems to let off, but then she prods at your flap with this short flick that's just almost enough and you sob. 

You really fuckin want her bulge. You're only gonna flood her hand if she doesn't stop. 

"That's your seedflap?" 

Her Alternian’s nearly perfect. She also sounds vaguely amazed, a whole lot of turned on. You nod, trying to fuckin get yourself together. "Dunno,” you pant out, “Fuck, Rose. I dunno how your matesprit is but you can't be just glubbin _going at it_ like that." 

Deep up in you, her fingers quirk like she's about to do it _again_ and you tense, sure she’s gonna force you to release. 

"It’s so responsive," she says, "and so--deep, isn't it?" She thrusts her fingers a few times, keeping off your seedflap. "Your whole nook is." 

"Fuckin shit--"

"It's truly remarkable. I see why you're intrigued by human coupling, with a nook like yours. I had initially thought this wouldn't be entirely dissimilar from other trolls of my acquaintance.” Your nook makes this awful wet squelch as she crooks her fingers in that narrow turn, easing it open. "But I can see what they say about violetbloods is true, at least in your case." 

You know some of the frank fuckin slander what goes around about seadwellers, you know what she's gonna say, and it's supposed to be downright humiliating. 

Your bulge is trying to wind back into her hand, and you're too caught up with what she’s saying to try and stop it. 

"What," you ask, "what the fuck are you humans sayin bout us?" 

She looks back up at your face, like she's appraising you.

"Well, the rumor is you all have loose nooks,” she says, “because you're bred to lay eggs, like common cluckbeasts." 

"Bucket, bucket-- _shit fuck_." 

You hadn't bothered to speak Standard, but it's clear enough she understood you. Your whole body is fuckin burning, you gotta be flushed from horns to nook. It ain’t like you didn’t know, it ain’t like you haven’t heard that shit before, but that she’d actually fuckin spell it out like that--it makes you clench around her in arousal and shame. 

Having a human say that right up to your face, that’s bad enough, but for it to be the thing that sets you over the edge? It’s so fuckin debasing that you need to fuckin spill, but Rose’s fingers are out of your nook and pinching hard at the base of your bulge before you can. 

You barely hold back from biting her. 

"Eridan," she scolds, "why, you haven't even seen my bulge yet." 

Panting, you dig your hands into your skirt and try to summon a little basic dignity. You know you're ripping the fabric, and you wonder how you'll manage to get home. 

You kinda wonder if you'll fuckin survive long enough to try. 

"Sorry if you ain't got your fuckin act together enough to whip it out," you snap, once you can fuckin talk. 

She rubs her slick fingers back down over the lips of your nook. "Is that what you truly want? You seemed to be finding my hand adequate--" 

"You wanna fuck me with your ludicrous human bulge, so fuck me with your ludicrous human bulge already." It's obvious you're ready for it, you think, you're sopping wet and loose as she'd said, and fuck you just really wanna feel her bulge hard against your seedflap. 

Sitting up, Rose wipes her hand against the sheets. Hopefully, she's got plenty of bleach or a forgiving matesprit or both. 

"Well," she says. "If you insist." 

And she walks over to open one of the drawers in this fuckin ridiculous oversized dresser they got in this respiteblock, and pulls out two things. 

One is a leather-looking harness that's already got a fake bulge in it. 

Both harness and bulge are Alternian design, the latter is a firm but slim looping shape with a respectable length. It’s longer than her fingers, but only as wide at the base. A custom job, too, it's that soft lavender that doesn't match any hemotype. The way it’s all set up, looks like she’d been intending to fuck you with it all night. She'd probably had it in mind when she sent you that drink. 

You'd get off being pailed with it, easy. 

But in her other hand, she’s got a synthetic human bulge. And that, you can’t fuckin look away from. You just can’t fuckin believe your gazebulbs. It's this bright red that don’t match any human skin but would definitely send Kar into convulsions, but more fuckin important it is just absurdly, terrifyingly--just fuckin gorgeously _huge_. 

"That ain't real," you whisper. 

You cannot look away. Rose brings the whole mess back to the coupling platform, and you are pretty much incapable of seeing anything but that red fuckin monstrosity. 

"I assure you, it does exist," Rose says. You barely hear her. 

What the fuck. No one could be pailed by that thing. Why's she even got it? 

You fidget with your skirt. "You can’t even get it in the harness." 

It's as big as your forearm. You try to look away from it. No fuckin way is that going fuckin anywhere. You really need to forget all about it. 

Rose snaps the Alternian bulge out of her harness. It seems to have a ring attached to the base, and you notice the huge fuckin mass of red has a similar setup and it all snaps right together like the harness was made for fatal bludgeoning devices. 

You make the instinctive clicking of a troll who's uneasy and overjoyed at once. 

"We don't have to, of course. I do have a more manageable human-style bulge, if you'd--"

"Who'd glubbin want _manageable_ ," you interrupt. "God, what a fuckin abomination. Look at it." 

You really can’t stop looking at it. 

It's fuckin perfect. You'd ask where she got it, but Kar’d just chuck it out the nearest airlock if you ever got one near the hive.

"If you insist," she repeats, “However, I will insist you tell me if I commit any _excessive_ bodily harm."

"Course," you say. She pulls the harness up over her hips, readjusting a few straps to get it nice and secure. The bulge curves up between her legs in an intimidating arc, and she’s so fuckin tall it’s nearly proportional. You swallow. 

Hopefully, you're not drooling. 

She's nearly on you before she tells you to hold on a fuckin moment, and she turns back to the dresser. You growl. Even if you've only met her tonight, you're one-hundred percent sure she did that on purpose, and she just laughs at you as she fishes out a bottle of something from the drawer. 

"You're certainly eager," she says. 

Whatever she's got, it's clear and viscous as she smears it over her huge mad excuse for a bulge. "Yeah and you're just fuckin around with--whatever that is." 

"As eager as you might be," she squirts a little more over the bulge, "I promise this will ease matters considerably. Your species might produce a considerable amount of natural lubrication, but I think you'll appreciate the excess." 

She's probably right. Anyway, you ain’t gonna complain for a bit of a show. She’s jerking her giant bulge and you shift closer. You're leaking, probably making a right mess of her sheets.

"Would it be easiest like this?" she asks. 

At first, you don’t know what to say. 

It ain’t like you don’t get her meaning, like, do you like this face-up or what. You’d love watching her try and cram this thing in you, you're real fuckin sorry you don't got a camera. But you know your bulge would just get in the way, and besides, you know this is gonna hurt at least a little. Face-down is more of a blackrom position, and you think your nook's a little less curved like that, anyway, and god if you want to get this in you probably it's gonna mean faking your body out like it's getting a quadrant-fuck for the drones. 

You _really_ want to get this in you. 

"No, uh," you roll over awkwardly. Rose makes an approving noise, like she doesn't mind the view. Your shoulders hunch. "This is probably better." 

"Hmm. I see," her hand's still covered with the lube stuff, and she slides it down from your tailbone to the back of your bulge, right over your wastechute like that was no big thing. You almost sit your shameglobes right down after that, but she's already stretching your nook back open with her hand. 

The synthetic lube is disorienting, near as cold as you. She fingers you deep, complete with graphic commentary on how fuckin loose you are with your globes on display. After a while, she tells you to grab a pillow and that she won't mind if you rip it up, and you claw for one desperately to start kneading. 

Between your thighs, your bulge is dripping. Still, you’re jumpy. 

But she takes her time stretching you. She’s real careful to lay off your seedflap, and it's a dreamy, long period where your nook's the most important thing in the universe, which is just fuckin rightful. By slow degrees, your nerves settle. A slick mixture of your of lube and the fake stuff Rose’s got starts drooling down the underside of your bulge and the inside of your thighs, and by the time she’s done, she’s got all but her thumb and knuckles up you. She keeps talking, narrating fuckin all of it, even when you’re only able to make a rough churring low in your throat. It’d be odd for a lot of humans, but you guess most of what you do ain’t gonna be all that alien to Rose. She doesn’t even flinch when your bulge whips back against her hand. 

When she finally does pull out her fingers and leans over you--now you realize the angle's probably better for her, anyway--you're sure you're ready. You feel like you could have her whole hand, her bulge is coated with a thick layer of synthetic lubricant, and the folds of your nook are slick and loose. 

But when she pushes the head of the bulge against your hole, there's no give at all and again you think, _no fuckin way_. 

Breathing deep, you try to relax. 

You try not to panic.

Right above the waist of your hiked-up skirt, you feel her hand start rubbing at your back, nice and firm. "You're doing well," she tells you. Her voice is low, soft like she's sharing a secret. "Now. Tilt your hips, and keep breathing." 

The head of her bulge is just shoved against you, going fuckin nowhere. Much as you try and relax for it like you did for her hand, you’re so close to just calling this off. It's gotta be impossible. Your anatomy ain't made for this, her bulge couldn't even fit through your fuckin pelvis, much less through the narrow channel of your nook. 

It’s like you’re trying to fuck your own glubbin arm. You got no clue what made you ever think that was possible. 

But Rose keeps rubbing your back, and she doesn’t let up with her bulge. There's a wet noise as she pumps more of the fake lube into her free hand, then her cold touch slicks between your thighs. 

You don't know if it's helping or hurting matters, that she's being so fuckin sweet while she tries to kill you.

"Hmm," she starts. She's gliding her thumb over the strained flesh of your nook, working the lube in as her bulge keeps straining against you. You find you're blinking back tears. Even if your bulge is losing all interest, and even if you're a second away from sobbing like a pathetic wiggler, you're just so frustrated. 

You're empty, and desperate. “Rose,” you whine, “It’s not gonna work,” and you wanted this so fuckin much.

The pressure lets up, and Rose pets you, calming and slow like she was going all pale for you. 

"Are you hurt?" she asks.

You knead at the pillow, considering your answer. "Not really, it's just--"

Her hands are right back between your thighs. "Then shush," she says and she starts pulling at the skin to one side of your nook. It feels real unnatural, like you’re being ripped apart and molded for her fuckin bulge. "I thought you were going to relax?" 

"How can I?" you ask her, your words a bit muffled by pillow. "Look Rose I can't, okay, this is fuckin impossible." 

"Good," she continues. 

She doesn't even care, does she? Maybe all those sweeps of Kar's paranoid rambling, maybe you shoulda listened. She's gonna kill you. You're gonna die fucked to death by human bulge. "Now, perhaps if you push, like you're emptying your seedflap during season--" she says, and you think, nope. 

No, you're gonna die of straight-up humiliation. That's how it’s gonna be. That’s how you’ll fuckin go. 

Despite the clear threat of imminent demise, you're desperate enough to try. You make every attempt to relax all your muscles _and_ to bear down like you're filling a bucket at the same time. All this while a giant human holds you open and shoves an enormous heap of silicone against your nook like it's actually gonna fuckin go anywhere, while she’s reassuring you like she ain't just attempting to commit murder by pailing, and...

And then something just _gives_. 

You whimper out a startled little chirr, feeling the head of her bulge pop into your nook. Rose slides in a little before stopping, like after the sudden breach there's momentum that even she can't control, and you let out an involuntary glub of discomfort. 

It does wind up hurting, course it fuckin does. Your nook's just being forced open, it ain’t made for the unyielding mass of a human bulge. 

Probably, you're still gonna die from fucking before the night's through. But right in that moment, when Rose is just holding so still and telling you how good you’ve done--you laugh, amazed. 

Holy fucking shit, you think. From the way Rose laughs in return, probably you say as much, too. 

"At the expense of sounding smug, I knew you could handle it," she tells you. The hand Rose had on your back, she slides down to hold you by the hip and keep your pelvis tilted toward her bulge. 

The thing shoves in a minute distance further, just enough to have you clawing up her pillow.

"Fuck, Rose. It ain't in me yet." Your Standard comes out mangled, you're shocked you got the wits enough to translate. She still strokes at the edges of your nook with her lube-slick hand, warm and teasing. 

You kinda wonder if you're torn anywhere, but you don't ask. Honestly you don't want her stopping even if you’re ripped up, even if your bleeding out would definitely mean getting killed by Kar.

"Give it time," she says. 

"Although... Would it help, if you were," she leans back apparently to demonstrate, pulling you with. You whine at the way it makes the fat head of her bulge twist in your nook, and you clutch at the sheets.

"Shit no," you hiss. "Get halfway in an maybe I'll think a it." 

It ain’t a bad idea. If you were on top of her lap like that, you could control the pace at which you're murdered by bulge. But you ain't sure you have the nerve to take more than an inch of that huge mass of silicone she's got jammed into your slit. 

She goes back to petting your back. "Okay. Okay," she soothes. You relax again, and her bulge sinks in a little further. "We'll take it slow, and you'll tell me if it's becoming intolerable."

Taking her in is another long ordeal which ain't entirely pleasant. Though it’s not horrid enough where you'd wanna tap out, it's certainly not comfortable. You're turned on by the stretch and the idea of getting ruined and all, but you really gotta concentrate on relaxing, which you've been told isn't something you're particularly great at doing, and you clench and ease up in waves. Rose plays with your bulge a little, rubs a whole lot of lube on your nook, and pets your hip. 

Sometimes, all that does get you loosening up a little. It’s still slow fuckin going. 

Finally, though, one time when you clamp down, she's just made a good slide of progress. You just got jumpy over nothing, it ain't even like she's done anything painful. You just freeze and tighten up, but for some reason instead of petting you, this time Rose grumbles in frustration and she slaps your hip. 

Your nook spasms around her. You feel your material seep out from where she's got you stopped up, and she's able to slide forward this crazy distance that makes you spurt again. 

"What's wrong," she demands, smacking your hip again when you next tense up, "how is this any worse than laying a few dozen eggs?" 

"Lies," you growl back. "That's defamation a character an I won't--" you break off in a rattling sigh as she pushes deep enough to finally--fuckin _finally_ \--reach your seedflap, and she never lets you finish your defense since from there it's real easy. Your nook's just a big sopping hole for her to plug up, and when Rose tells you that she's gotta hold you tight to keep you from fucking yourself back on her bulge. 

You aren't real surprised when you can't take the whole thing. She bottoms out with still about three finger-widths of bulge left--her fingers, not yours. It still blows your thinkpan. After she lets you get used to being full, she has you reach back to feel how little is left outside your nook, and you just can't purr for her enough. You stroke that short distance of lube- and genetic-material-slick silicone over and over because it's scientific proof you can pretty much cram your whole forearm up your nook, given enough incentive.

Rose's breasts are shoved up against your shoulders at this angle. She tugs at one of your horns, getting you twisted to where she can bite at your lips. Her teeth are blunt, and you purr even harder. 

"For what it's worth," she says, "I told you so." 

You reach behind yourself to pinch her. "Well for what it's worth it ain't all in me either so _I_ told _you_ so." She swats your ass again, your purr stuttering when you laugh, and the two of you just start messing around while your nook gets all accustomed to matters. Slowly, your bulge is getting real interested again, and though you can get angled where you can get her breasts taken care of--which seems to impress her, since it takes a few more joints than what humans got--you gotta apologize to Rose for your being such a greedy fuck. Short as it is, there's no way your bulge can reach her nook to return the favor. 

"That's fine," she says. "This is more than enjoyable enough." 

At first, you're not quite sure you believe her. She seems to be getting more and more aroused by you fooling around with her spheres, but you're not certain that what you’re up to is something she'll be spilling over, and then after you've been at it a while she tenses up and asks if she can move. 

The amount of fun you'd been having, you guess maybe it's understandable you'd forget. 

Still. Fuck. You can't believe you'd let something like _that_ fall out of your pan, and Rose is real still behind you, waiting. 

"Shit, yeah," you say, raising up your ass like a mammal, like some fuckin barkbeast. "Knock yourself out." 

Her first few thrusts are tentative and slow. She's barely moving in you at all, and it's leagues less intense than when she was cramming herself up in you. 

All the same, you're gnawing at her pillow again and helplessly carrying on with a great deal of unseemly racket. Rose doesn't slow up, thank fuck. If she's pailing a troll already she's gotta know how fuckin indecent it is to be debauched like an extra in a musclebeast portrait, and there ain’t no way in the multiverse you'd ever admit to enjoying that. 

She speeds up real gradual, messes around with how deep she'll pull out and the angle of her hips, and sometimes you do gotta ask her to hold up. Sometimes, she'll jab at some part of your nook that’s just fuckin awful, you’ll be hit with a shock of pain that leaves you shaking. Twice, Rose asks if you want to stop altogether, and both times you answer with something that ain't entirely kind. Thankfully, she's real forgiving about it because you are under some veritable fuckin duress and it's making you a little lax on manners, and when she finally settles in a rhythm that's real great for both of you there's no way you can string together a single fuckin sentence anyhow. 

The way she winds up pailing you, it's more like she’s just grinding against you than anything else. The head of her bulge grates rough back and forth over your seedflap, making your bulge leak steadily, and you can hear her pant for air. She grips you tight enough to bruise, holds your pelvis immobile while she rocks against you to grind in those short bursts of pressure. 

Though there's no way her bulge is making any contribution, you feel deliriously full. It's just her monstrous fuckin bulge. At least, that’s what you think at first, but after a while you realize the pressure's building more and more, almost painfully so. 

She keeps shoving against your seedflap, and she’s making her own noises now like she's maybe involved with her own issues, so you reach down to press cautiously on your abdomen, and...

And, fuck. Fuck, that's definitely--that is definitely her giant bulge making you swell up. But there's also a hard knot just above that, just where you know your genetic bladder lies. You've been releasing a little from your bulge, but you're one of those trolls who gets most of it out through the seedflap and holy fuck it can't go anywhere when you're full up like this. What if your genetic bladder fuckin explodes? 

God, you're gonna be pailing yourself over this for sweeps. 

You're probably gonna keep swelling up till she's done, and she keeps thrusting in you and you aren't sure what to expect, you’re fuckin terrified and chirping with pleasure. 

You're used to trolls. You’re used to how it feels to have your partner's bulge go rigid up against your flap, to how they'd finish filling you up while you’d be doing the same to them. There'd be a bucket right the fuck here already. 

Now, there's no bucket in sight, and Rose's bulge is fuckin solid to begin with. You’re starting to get real uneasy. 

What if she does this all night? 

She does keep going for a while after that. The growing tension in your gut and the way she's surrounding you and holding you so still, though--even your nerves make you all clammy with arousal. Eventually, she speeds up a little more, and mumbles something you don't can't quite catch, and then she just...

Stops. 

Full stop. Like, that's it. 

You shiver, uncertain. 

Her bulge is still in you, even if the pressure's off your flap a little. You're panting almost bad as she is. Rose leans against you like she's trying to compose herself, and it takes you a ridiculous span of time for you to realize what's going on. 

"An I was worried," you manage. 

Rose gives you this breathless little noise that you think is maybe a laugh. It’s kinda sweet, it makes you even more okay with the idea of having her do gross bodily harm on you for the foreseeable future.

"Apologies," she says. "Mmm." She reaches under you and feels out the swell of your lower abdomen, and she's not particularly gentle about it. You chirp with satisfied distress. "You really don't produce much from your bulge, do you?"

"What a fuckin revelation, I commend you on your judicious application a inductive reasonin an--oh ow, fuck, ow keep goin--" 

The refractory period for trolls ain't real long. But it's always gonna be a shock to have anything so huge shoved around in your nook. You thrust back, getting yourself to where her bulge is right up against your flap again, and you're petrified you’re gonna burst something vital but it's all so fuckin great. 

Rose’s right hand's still cupping over your gut, like she's just as enthralled by the way her bulge is leaving you ruined. "At the risk of subjecting myself to another fumbling venture at repartee, I'm going to ask--I trust you'll want a bucket?"

And though you're a fuckin model of wit, the pressure's getting to where you can't manage more than a word at a time. 

"Yeah." You've gone without before, but it's pretty intimate. Doing it here, it’s unthinkable. You swallow. "Please." 

"Of course." She pulls you with her to one side of the bed, which makes her twist in you in a way that isn't all that great, and she reaches over to the nightstand. She's got long enough arms that it's effortless. 

You blush when she pulls out a plastic bucket, one of those disposable jobs you use with one-day stands. Course you’d be tossing this spill, it ain't even like you're with another troll. But these shallow one-use pails are such a fuckin indignity that there's barely time for her to get it between your legs. 

When she's putting it in place, her bulge moves deep in you, digging hard against your flap. You feel the aborted spurt of fluid, and the way she's stopping it from going anywhere, and it's so beyond what anyone could stand, it's fuckin horrid. 

"Pull out," you beg. "Oh god, get it out." It's just your own material, yeah, but it's enough pressure that you might as well been pailed up by a dozen trolls. "It's doin fuckin grievous harm okay, I can't--" 

She's trying to ease back slowly. You get that. You kinda get where it'd be the nicer thing in theory, and you're growling and crying, she’s fuckin murdering you.

"Fuckin shove off already," you whine, "gonna kill me, fuckin…" You elbow at her urgently. Your genetic bladder is spasming, your whole nook feels stuffed and sore as hell. “Rose, I fuckin can’t okay,” you cry, and at last she gets the fuckin idea. 

At last, she just yanks it out all in one go, and thank every last horrorterror. But without the bulge plugging you up, the obvious happens. 

Your material spills out in a wet gush. 

The sound it makes in the disposable pail is awful enough, but you can't even control yourself, you're just releasing all over. Probably only half of it's hitting the bucket, and finally Rose pulls your hips back so you're actually sitting on the rim, and you start sobbing from the fuckin indignity, you don't think she even knows how completely humiliating this all is. 

"Oh, fuck," she moans. She's pinning you there, one hand on your lower stomach where you'd just been stretched out. She’s pushing on you like she wants you to spill enough for the next six perigees and her other hand is between her legs, tucked up under the harness. 

"Rose," you growl at her, the constants all garbled up like it were Alternian. "Rose, you're fuckin _gettin off on this_?" 

She just nods, like now she's the one forgetting Standard. It's a shit excuse for a language anyway, it ain't anyone's larval tongue. 

You wonder what she really talks. You claw at her arm, light enough that you don't break the skin. 

"You got any idea how fuckin debased--" 

Digging her fingers against the swell on your abdomen, she bites your fin and she interrupts you to hiss this short word at you. You can’t fuckin understand it but fuck if the meaning ain’t clear enough, your nook just gushes. 

"Can--" you pant. “Can I--oh, fuck.” Your genetic bladder’s still emptying, and you’re struggling to ask if there's anything you can do to help her get off. But she just grinds her teeth harder around your fin, hard enough to make you cry out, and her hand speeds up. It's obvious she doesn't want you doing anything else than sit here and suffer, and whatever fuckin troll it was who said humans didn't get blackrom, well. They're a fuckin fool.

She goes limp against you not long after you're done. The bucket's half-full and your thighs and ass are sopping and your skirt's glued to your skin. Cold and uncomfortable, you eventually gotta nudge her away so you can flop on the bed. 

You hurt just about everywhere. 

Mainly your nook, though. At least it nothing's broken. Well. You hope, anyway. You don't really got the energy to check. Rose is sprawled out by you, and while you're surprised when she gets up and walks outta the block--harness and all--you can’t complain, you’re fuckin concussed here, your thinkpan is completely offline. 

She comes back shortly with a clear glass bottle, frosted over with condensation. You're just able to work up a pretty reasonable confusion for her before she’s got it urged into your hands. It's almost freezing. You rub your cheek against it, blissed out. 

Rose is fuckin magic, you swear. 

"You're supposed to drink that," she says. At the same time, she's unzipping your skirt and peeling it off, and you grouse at her the whole fuckin time. For a while, you just nuzzle up against the bottle, soaking up the cold and letting Rose do whatever the fuck she wants to the rest of your person. But eventually, you cave and open it. 

The taste of the water is odd, minerally. Like the sort of water you'd get planetside. You gotta admit to being thirsty after all that messing around. 

Before you realize it, you've emptied the bottle. You stretch out, wondering what to do with it, before catching sight of the bucket again and realizing you got worse to clean up. 

"Want me to, well,” you gesture at the bucket. 

Rose takes the bottle from you, sets it on the bedside table. "Perhaps in a moment," she says. "Relax."

"That word's nothin but threat when you're the one glubbin it," you mutter, but you settle back at her urging. It's hard to ignore, though. Having a bucket just laying out on a coupling platform where anyone can kick it over is fuckin disconcerting, even if it's not viable for the slurry, and it's a relief when Rose finally sighs and gets it on the table, too. 

"One would imagine, this far out…" 

Now that the bucket’s out of sight, you can fuckin forget about it. You shrug. 

It's true that the drones that come to pirate colonies are always in a sorry fuckin state, and they never make the journey on any sort of reasonable schedule, and they only got room for one bucket per troll on their shitty fuckin ships, and that less than half of them ever survive the return journey. But old instincts are old instincts. You get why Rose is oblivious--jadebloods got shitty fuckin lusii, they're raised like little dayterrors, and you wouldn't be surprised if Kanaya ain’t got a single fuckin manner concerning the matter of buckets. You, though, your lusus brought you up right and you ain’t about to glub something rude as all that to Rose. 

"That got knocked over, the launderin fee would be straight-up unconscionable," you wind up saying.

"I'm sure my linens would thank you for your consideration." She rests a hand on one of your thighs, pressing gently outward. 

It'll probably take you about a week to recover from her pailing, but you're intrigued. You give her a tired little rumbling purr, and splay your legs open. 

"May I?”

"Sure." You got no clue what she's planning, but it's a bit late to be worrying about her fuckin up your nook.

Turns out she just wants to survey the damage, though. She gets you to tilt up your pelvis, has you hold apart the thick exterior folds of your nook, and just that much is enough to get the tip of your bulge outta your sheath. No point in lodging complaints now, you think, looking away from how she's just fuckin staring down your nook. It obviously ain't too soon for you to have another go. 

She's quiet for way too fuckin long. 

You gnaw at your lip. "Wanna paint a fuckin portrait or what?"

"Hmm," is all she says.

"What?” you prop up, trying awkwardly to see what the fuck’s wrong with your nook. “Is it glubbin bleedin or--" 

Two fingers slide up in you, and you snarl. It’s like a warning’s always too fuckin much to ask from this broad, what the hell. 

"You're not bleeding," she interrupts. She rubs over the slick, sore walls of your nook, and you're surprised how little it actually hurts. "And I don't feel any tearing, but you are," she pauses. You bite at your lip again, but this time you’re just trying not to smirk. It's like twelfth perigee's eve, she's so fuckin into this. "Quite… open."

"You don't fuckin say.” 

"You're certain you aren't oviparous? I suspect you'd have little difficulty, even were you to bear a full-grown wriggler." 

"Don't be disgustin, you’ll put a guy right off his bulge."

"I suspect there's little chance of that," she tells you. Her fingers hook, and the dull ache that rattles through you sends a short spurt of fluid out onto her hand. "You know, it wouldn’t take any effort to fuck such a loose nook, but if you're so disinterested--"

"Fuck, Rose, just get it in me." 

She pulls her fingers out. "Perhaps your manners are enough to put a woman right off her--"

"Whatever I gotta glub let's just pretend it's already been articulated, okay? I want your immense alien bulge an you've already fuckin ruined my nook anyhow an I'm full prepared to grovel," you say, and you ain't being flip, you mean every last glubbin word. 

Rose brushes over the back of your knuckles, lets you free up from fuckin pornographic display mode. You glance up at her, trying to look indignant and likely failing. 

Maybe it wouldn't be too optimistic to roll over, you think. Probably, it wouldn't hurt to work up a good grovel, too.

"I'll spare us both the indignity," she tells you. You watch, curious, as she sits back. Her bulge curves up from her lap, still sticky from your nook. "Now, up here, facing me," she says, patting one of her thighs. "I think you'll appreciate the view." 

You give up a second of resistance, because there's groveling and then there's jumping into someone's lap like you were just some fuckin _pet_ , but yeah watching that bulge split you is gonna be pretty hot. 

It's impossible not to look overeager when you're crawling over a coupling platform to get straddled over a bulge, so you don't even try. You steady your hands on her shoulders and she holds your hips, and you’ve never felt so fuckin small. Resting your head against her, you watch as the two of you get the bulge lined up against your nook. You can't even breathe without making these embarrassing shaky little sounds. 

Of course, it hurts like hell when you get breached. It’s also brilliant watching it fuckin happen, even if you can't see shit what with your bulge in the way. When Rose cups it aside for you--you're too busy clutching desperately at her shoulders--the angle's still too off to see _everything_ , but it's still fuckin brilliant. Your body’s just straight-up amazing, you think. Your nook stretches around the girth of Rose's bulge, and you sink yourself down on it, centimeter after centimeter. 

From this position, it won't go up quite as deep. You curl yourself around her front, minding the horns, and watch yourself ride her bulge, as you work yourself down on her to get more of her up your nook. You don't even mind when she scratches behind your horns or when she pets over your fins. 

It wouldn't be so bad, you think, being a lapbarkbeast for a human like Rose. 

As you keep thrusting down on her, your thighs start burning with strain. You’ve already been held open and fucked raw tonight, you’re surprised you got energy enough to keep on. She’s holding you by the hips, tight enough that you think she’d be bruising you up real bad were you some weak-hided human, and her lap’s gotta be coated with your cold fuckin material but she never seems to mind. 

Though she seems to be having an okay time, the position must not be so great for her. This time, you spill way before she does; this time, she’s barely breaking any weird mammalian sweat before you’re whimpering for that disgraceful plastic bucket. 

Sore as you are and as fuckin tiny as you feel and as stretched-out as you look, taking her bulge--it’s no shock how soon you spill. When you do, you're so unsteady just getting yourself pried off her bulge that she’s gotta help you get the pail. Thankfully, you at least don't gotta fuckin sit on it this time. You have enough coordination to just kneel over it like a decent troll, emptying the last paltry drops from your seedflap. Minute you’re done, that’s when she finishes up herself; that’s when she pushes you on your back and just has her way with you, working her hips against you in that unrelenting grind she’d fucked you with before. Hivestem this nice gotta have decent soundproofing, at least you hope so. 

By the time the night's over, she’s pailed you three times. On the last, your bulge ain't even unsheathing, you've lost enough material to fuel a few seasons worth of drones, but you're still begging for it. She pushes you flat on your back once more, and holds you open to fuck you hard, telling you the whole time how good it is and how you ain't gonna be able to walk home. 

When you finally come that last time, it's a dry orgasm and those are always fuckin agony. You probably make a whole lot of racket during, because after she takes it real easy on you, she just shucks off her harness and bulge and kneels over your face to let you finish her off with your mouth. You've made enough of a mess of her that at first, all you can taste is your own genetic material as you lick up over her thighs and the outer lips of her nook. But when she yanks at you by the horns and tells you to cease fucking around--fearless about your fangs, and you guess she would be with the state of her matesprit's--and you finally get your tongue where she wants it, her taste is utterly alien. 

Too exhausted to truly be aroused again, you just purr as she moans and rubs off on your face. It doesn't take long, you working your tongue over her immobile bulge and her gripping tight at your horns and groaning real loud when your rumbling kicks up a little higher. She spills a scant amount of her clear, thin fluid before rolling off you with a groan. 

For a while, you keep purring mindlessly. Sure, it's a little quadranty of you. But this whole night's been a mess of all that, and she's got an arm slung over your chest besides. You're just so fuckin satisfied, even if you got no clue how you're gonna get home. Rose seems pretty beat, too, her pale hair sticking to her face. 

She looks passed out. You know you should get up and grab Kar's palmhusk, or at least raise your head enough to look around for a fuckin clock, but you guess you've already been here all glubbin night. You figure it won't hurt much to lie here a little longer, savoring the throb of discomfort between your thighs and the warm weight of Rose's arm. It’s easily another quarter-hour you waste that way, before it occurs to you that Kar's got both the keys and inclination to lock you out if you don't got your ass home by morning. 

The concept of night and day is kinda academic on stations like this, and you don't really need a tub of sopor to get sleep out here. But, achy and tired as you are, all you want is a shower and a few days submerged in the familiar confines of you and Kar's crappy second-hand recupracoon. 

With a grunt of discomfort, you sit up. Rose yawns and stretches when you displace her arm, and you can feel her watching while you limp over to pick up your underwear. You wince. 

It ain't gonna be decent, walking home like this. 

"The--what is it, ablution block?--is right through that door," she says, waving lazily. You try not to look impressed, you ain't seen an en suite since your childhood hive, and you're sure they're even more rare out here on Epsilon. 

Rose pulls herself up to sit. 

"There should be something I can find for you to wear home," she tells you. "I'll bring it in, go on." You hesitate a little longer, then grab your blouse and Kar's palmhusk and retreat. 

The timestamp on the palmhusk is disorienting. It's only been a few hours since you and Rose got here. There's not a single message from Kar--or, well, from your phone, you guess--and you wonder if he's even been home yet. You log out of his pester account to get into your own and message that you're still alive, thanks so much for checking in you inconsiderate ass. You don’t wait for a reply before setting the husk aside to make quick work of cleaning off. You're a little uncertain about using their hot water and soap and towels, all of which are probably worth more than you and Kar make in a week, even if you were invited. 

You pat yourself dry a lot more slowly than you'd showered, enjoying the soft weave of whatever fabric their fancy towels are made from. You've just started buttoning up your blouse when Rose knocks. 

What she's got in her hands is more than a little hideous, it's like neon fuckin orange, but you're enough of a gentleman not to complain. "Here you are," she says, and when it's in your hands you realize it's just a big square of fabric. 

Rose seems amused at your confusion. 

"It's called a sarong. I suppose you require assistance, as advanced clothing technologies appear to be lacking in Alternian culture. From what I hear." 

"Yeah, well, we're evolved way past fuckin dayglo," you say, wrapping it around your waist in what seems a logical first step. It hangs to mid-calf on you, and you fumble with the loose ends until Rose pushes your hands out of the way and redoes the whole thing, tying it off in a knot that feels surprisingly secure. At least, long as it is, you don't need to wear your stockings. "Thanks, I guess." 

"You are very welcome," she says, grinning. You grumble and shove by her to get to your shoes. She's already got your skirt and stockings in a bag, and if anything that and the reek of sex still in the room only makes you blush harder.

"Can I, uh," you look around at the rucked blankets and the harness dangling off the side of the bed, "help you clean, or fuckin burn the sheets or--" 

"Oh, no," she says. "Go on, I am sure you have plans at home." 

The way she emphasizes the word "plans," you kinda get the idea her matesprit was probably a little more keen on this whole evening than you'd first imagined. "Right," you answer, slipping on your shoes. 

She walks you to the door, stark naked. You grip Kar's palmhusk and the bag of discarded clothes tight. "Look." Awkwardly, you turn back to her. "This was real fun, an I truly appreciated it," you say, and it comes out all stilted. 

Great as it might have been, foolin around with her for a few hours, it's not like you're bound to see Rose again. Even considering how fuckin small Epsilon can be, with a hive like this, she's gotta be doing things loads more important than you. "An thanks for the drink an the skirt an all." 

"Well, don't get too attached to the sarong," she says, tugging you close. Your face is pretty much shoved between her breasts, and the undignified noise you make winds up muffled. "It is just a loan, after all.”

"Oh," you say to her chest. You reach your arms around her, and squeeze her in return before you lean back. "Well, yeah, a course I'll get it back to you real soon." You raise up on your tiptoes, tilting your head expectantly. 

She leans down and kisses you. It's hungry and a little possessive, even after all the two of you got up to tonight. "Until next time, then," she says before letting you go. She ain't even a bit shy when you open the door. She just stands there like humans are always wandering about in the nude as you step into the hall. 

There's not a soul around. 

"See you," you say, grinning back at her. You don't know if she watches you walk off or whatever, you're pretty careful not to turn around every five glubbin steps like some fool.

There's nothing stopping you from rushing home, though. In fact, considering the state of your dress, you're in a justified hurry, and you walk as fast as your hips and pelvis will fuckin let you. Course, that’s not much more than a waddling jog, but luckily it's early for humans and late for trolls and there ain't many around to see your shame. 

There's also still no message from Kar, no matter how many times you check the palmhusk. You know he was kinda encouraging you with this tonight, you know there's no way he'd be mad. Ignoring the sore ache of your joints, you walk a little faster. There's absolutely no way, you convince yourself, that Kar’d be pissed with you. 

A few blocks later, you pass the diner you'd left Kar and Rose's matesprit. You can't stop thinking about how much it'd fuckin serve you right if Kar was upset. You've fucked up with other trolls for a whole hell of a lot less, you really shoulda left well enough alone, and already you can hear him calling you a fucking asshole who never listens, and it's about two blocks after that when Kar finally catches up with you and starts shouting that full in your face. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, I said I was sorry," you tell him. 

He's got your wrists tight in his small hands, his claws pricking your skin. They fit just perfect there, you think. 

"--and what the gazebulb-stabbing fuck are you even wearing, did you piss your own noticeably hideous plaid defilement of shameglobes everywhere when that human--" 

It's not like it's any revelation that Kar's a runty troll. But after fuckin around with Rose, it really makes your bloodpusher twist, just being so close to him. You lean down to nuzzle right where the short upward curve of his right horn meets his hair. 

"And, wow, not like we're in _goddamn public_ or anything you--"

"Could say the same to you," you interrupt. You give his horn a soft kiss before he gets it in his pan to try to gore you with it. "Missed you." 

"Like hell," he says. Reluctantly, you let him shove you away. "Anyway, let me say good morning to your fuckbuddy's displaced matesprit. Don't try to fucking waddle off while I'm gone." 

Now that he’s mentioned her, you notice Kanaya’s standing back a distance behind Kar. You try to be as inconspicuous as a sea troll in a goddamn orange skirt can manage, and when Kar goes back to say his goodbyes, you can't help but feel jealous. 

They way they touch hands, it's very almost pale. You kick at the ground, waiting. There ain't rocks or sand or anything, just kilounits and kilounits of worn titaniumite. 

"Hey idiot," Kar says. He pulls his palmhusk out of your grip, and shoves it in his back pocket before grabbing your hand. The familiar way his fingers dig against your webbing makes you purr at him reflexively. "Let's get you home before you pass out, all right?" 

He starts walking, half-dragging you along. You hear Kanaya call out a final farewell at the both of you, and she sounds pleasant and teasing enough, but you're too nervous to glub anything in return. 

"Seems pretty nice," you say after a while. Kar squeezes your hand.

"She's all right," he admits, before tugging you against his side. "And don't do your bullshit paranoid routine after getting what little thinkpan you had fucked out by some freaky alien bulge." 

You laugh tiredly, and squeeze his hand back, just as bruising. "Fine, fine. Whatever for you," you tell him, and he leans over to brush a quick kiss over your fin before going back to hauling you through the deserted station. 

"Whatever for you right back," he grumbles. And between the pleasant ache of your body and how Kar feels against you, dense and warm, you wind up grinning the whole way home.


End file.
